


Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine

by Green



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-26
Updated: 2010-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... when he drags it out of him, he'll be able to say all the things he's been keeping to himself, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine

Fraser has a secret.

Well, the thing is, he _thinks_ he has a secret, and that he's keeping it to himself, but Ray knows him better than that. Ray's a first-class, citation earning, badge-carrying detective. Nobody can keep a secret from Ray. (At least, not for long. And certainly not longer than two years.)

Ray's not sure if Fraser's been keeping the secret for two years or not, but it's been at least -- at _least_ \-- three months. You can't pull the wool over Kowalski's eyes for long. Even if that wool is bright red serge with little straps and lassos and a million brass buttons. _Though now that I think about it, I wouldn't mind getting my head under that wool._

But he's not thinking about that right now. He thinks enough about his secrets. Right now, he's driving and watching Fraser watch him out of the corner of his eye like the big sneaky Mountie he is. And this has got to stop.

One of these days, Ray's gonna have to sit Fraser down and have a little chat with him. Remind him that keeping secrets just ain't buddies. And then, when he drags it out of him, he'll be able to say all the things he's been keeping to himself, too.

 _Like the way my stomach ties into giant knots the size of fists when you go and do stupid things like jumping onto moving cars or trains or planes. I've gotta wonder if there's any mode of transportation you haven't jumped onto -- boats? Horses, well, that's pretty much a given, being a 'mounted' policeman and all. But then I'm thinking of all the other ways of being mounted, and whether you like to be the mounted or the mountee. Mountee Mountie. Heh._

"Did you say something, Ray?" Fraser asks as they pull up in front of the precinct.

Oh, there's that completely oblivious, innocent, curious expression again. _The one that does things to me that makes me feel like_ I'm _the one jumping off a building._

"Just thought of something funny, Frase," Ray says. "You gonna eat that last donut?"

Fraser shakes his head so Ray wraps it up in a napkin and puts it in his pocket. (And if Diefenbaker sniffs it out later and lifts it before Ray can stop him, there's nothing he can do, really.) Dief whines a little from the back seat, but it's all a show, really. He knows which side his bread is buttered on.

One of these days, Ray's gonna tell Fraser all the little things, too, not just the big ones like where he's worried about him when he does ridiculously dangerous heroic shit. Like the thing about the hat. And the weird bark tea.

 _... And the way my mouth waters a little bit when you're so close I can smell your soap and musk and it's so damned amazing that I want to just put my nose close to your skin, breathe it into my lungs and just hold it there. Maybe do the Mountie thing and lick a little, just to get the full Fraser experience._

Maybe he's kinda waiting for Fraser to come out and say it all first. He knows that's a chicken shit way to look at it, but no good has ever come of him saying those kinds of words to anybody. Even if he kept it simple. Like, 'Fraser, I want you.'

 _Fraser, I think you're hot. I don't care if you're a man, or a Canadian, or a hero. I don't care if you put sticks in your beverages, or put your tongue in places it just shouldn't be. I don't care if you act like you have no sense of the real world around you because you're living in your little fantasy Mountie world where everybody's polite and nobody litters or jaywalks or drives faster than the posted speed limit. I want you. I want all of you, even all of the stuff that makes me crazy._

But even saying the simple stuff doesn't seem too easy.

Fraser pokes his head into Ray's car window and says, "Are you coming, Ray?"

He's been daydreaming again. Fraser's ready to go and Ray's just sitting in his car like a great big soppy jerk. He might as well turn on some old country and western music and sing along to Patsy Cline or something.

 _I fall to pieces ... How can I be just your friend?_

He snorts. Of all the ridiculous, sappy, sentimental bits of nonsense--

"Ray?"

He groans and says to the steering wheel, "Coming, Frase. Jeez. Give a guy a minute, wouldya?"

When he finally gets out of the car, Fraser's standing a good few feet away, trying to look like he's respecting Ray's privacy and all with that extra bit of distance, but it's obvious he's worried, because he has that worried little frown on his face. The one he makes when Ray sees Stella, or when a certain movie is playing on the late-late night show and Fraser knows that's the one that gets him all melonwhatis. Lassie. Collie. Whatever.

 _And that's one thing I never have to talk about or share with you or try to make you understand, because you_ do _understand, understand it all in a big way, and that's one of the things I like the most about you, Fraser, that you've got a big heart that way, and you care about stupid shit like why I don't like to wear the blue shirt but why I can't get rid of it. And you're always there, a shoulder to cr-- lean against manfully._

Shit. He's doing it again, going into that Fraser headspace of his, and he's not even in to work yet. This is bad. This is the worst. And he tried to distract himself from thinking about his own secrets by thinking about Fraser's secrets, and it didn't work, and he doesn't think _anything_ is gonna work--

"You look ill, Ray," Fraser says. Does he _have_ to do the earnest concern thing? "Perhaps you should take the day off."

"Nah," Ray says, even though the idea needs a little merit badge. "Just had too many donuts, I think."

"I would be happy to escort you home, Ray." Blue eyes. He'd thought they were more green than blue, but looking at them now, they are definitely blue. Or maybe it's just the light. He'd like to test that theory, see if they ever look green in the dark, or blue, or if they just get all black with the pupils dilated and ...

"Yeah," Ray says, and his voice sounds a little like a frog's, and that makes the gentle frown come back.

"Can you drive? You look flushed, Ray," Fraser says, and then one of those big, square hands is on his face, and Fraser's just as warm as he looks. "You actually feel a bit cool. Clammy."

Great. While Fraser's looking at him with sexy blue bedroom eyes, wearing the hat and the serge with the interesting leather attachments, Ray's croaking and slimy and probably splotchy in the face area.

"I'll take care of you, Ray," Fraser says. So now Ray's pants are tight and uncomfortable on top of him feeling and sounding like an amphibian. Not to mention the splotchy blushing.

Maybe, once they get back to Ray's apartment, he'll tell Fraser his secrets.

 _If you tell me yours, first._


End file.
